


Destiny

by sahem62896



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahem62896/pseuds/sahem62896
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's put the King of the Night in the ring with the Master of Manipulation and see who comes out the winner!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenPhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix/gifts), [drsquidlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drsquidlove/gifts).



> Once again, I am exploring the gaps in the "OZ" canon. This story puts Keller and Torquemada together in a scene that, I believe, leads nicely into those final heartbreaking moments for Beecher and Keller. As usual, I own the rights to nothing; I'm just having fun and hopefully entertaining anyone kind enough to give me and my work a few minutes of their precious time.  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"I am so tangled in my sins that I cannot escape..." —Marilyn Manson_

 

Keller was shelving the last of his belongings and thinking about how surprised Beecher was going to be to see him not only back in Em City but also residing in his pod when he heard a tap on the glass behind him. He looked over his shoulder expecting to see Beecher in the doorway, but it was Zonioni and Masters in all their hideous glamor. Zonioni was standing just past the threshold with his hands on his hips and his feet spread shoulder-width apart looking like a gross imitation of Wonder Woman. Behind him Masters was drumming his fingernails on the doorframe; his face was a combination of amusement and cat-like disdain. The two of them, whom Keller had never regarded as something more than comic relief in Em City, now seemed emboldened and no longer willing to tolerate being treated like ringside entertainment.

"Welcome home, stud," cooed Masters. "We've missed you."

"I'll bet you did," Keller said.

"Alonzo wants to have a word with you," Zonioni told him with a slight swivel of his head.

Keller's eyebrows raised. "Alonzo?"

"Honey, he's been in Unit B all this time," Masters reminded Zonioni. "He hasn't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Torquemada yet."

"Oh, that's right," Zonioni said, removing one hand from his hip and pointing a carefully shaped fingernail in Masters's direction. His eyes never left Keller's face as his lips pulled back into a grotesque smile that glimmered with the rush of newfound power.

"And why do I want to meet him?" Keller asked.

"Oh, who cares why you want to meet _him_ ," Zonioni said, waving the question away with a flitting hand. "He wants to meet _you_."

"Why?" Keller asked again.

"Yours not to reason why," Masters said, as he removed his hand from the door and sidestepped his enormous body through the door past Zonioni and into the pod. Keller caught the glint of metal from the shank in his hand. Masters began tracing the tip of his fingernail with it. "Yours is but to do... or die."

Keller regarded the blade with a slight raise of his eyebrows. "Huh," he remarked quietly. "When did you two get so fucking tough?"

"Things have changed around here, Keller," Zonioni said from behind the wall that was Masters.

"And you're gonna _feel_ a change if you don't play nicely," Masters informed him. His voice had lowered to a soft purr. His grin had flattened into a straight line.

Less than two feet of space now separated him from Masters's shank, and behind him was Zonioni who could just as easily have been armed. They had some balls to pull a stunt like this in plain view of everyone in Em City. Probably the only reason they were even getting away with it was because Querns and McManus were concluding their interrogation with Beecher and getting ready to make a decision about what action to take regarding Schillinger's death. Given the fact that McManus had been agreeable to moving him back into Em City, ostensibly to keep him out of the Aryans' reach while they made their investigation, Keller was pretty sure that he already knew how that matter was going to end. However, this current one with the killer queens in his pod seemed uncertain, and Keller wished that he had never written these two off as a non-threat.

"Well?" Masters asked.

Keller shrugged. What difference did it make? "Lead the way."

Masters smiled a bit. "Body and brains," he commented as he hid the shank in an unseen inner pocket of his shirt. "Love that in a man."

Keller pointed. "Just go."

Behind Masters, Zonioni made a slow one-eighty and walked out the door rolling his hips with each step. He paused as Masters assumed the lead and Keller trailed behind, sparing one glance behind him as he left the pod. Zonioni then fell in line behind Keller, preventing him from making a break in the other direction. The trio walked halfway around the second tier and stopped two pods shy of the staircase. Masters, who was a few feet ahead of them, tapped on the glass, and then paused for a few seconds before taking a few more paces forward and turning to face Keller.

"Go on in," he instructed, motioning at the door.

Keller looked behind him at Zonioni who inclined his head and smiled tightly, then back at Masters, who raised his eyebrows and nodded once. Sighing, Keller went into the pod.

* * * *

The first thing that struck Keller as the door closed behind him was all that white — the white shirt open to expose the smooth olive skin stretched tight on the nicely sculpted torso, the small white underpants which looked as if they had been sprayed on just above the fork of his crotch, the short white hair on his head, and that one white eye peering out at him from its socket. He was lounging on the lower bunk, the big toe of one of his bare feet idly tracing the arch of the other. His slender fingers with their black lacquered nails stroked the fashionable stubble on his chin with slow, elegant movements.

"So this is Christopher Keller," said the man in white. His deep voice with it's slight Spanish accent was as smooth as hot fudge over ice cream. He swung his feet to the floor and rose gracefully to an even six feet. His face was placid and his movements were languid as he strode over to Keller. "Alonzo Torquemada," said the man as he offered his hand.

Keller, who suddenly found himself staring into that one normal eye the way he would at a hooded cobra, forced his eyes down to look at Torquemada's hand. It was empty, but it somehow appeared more dangerous that way. After a second, the web of Keller's hand connected with Torquemada's and two sets of fingers closed in a handshake. His lips and tongue were eager to form words, but his voice box was locked.

Torquemada stepped back one pace. "Let me look at you," he said as he slowly scanned Keller's form from head to toe. He stepped to Keller's left side and Keller found his gaze still locked on the one spot of black amidst all that whiteness as it went up and down his body again and stopped on his upper arm where his crucifixion tattoo was located. Torquemada never laid a hand on him, but just the weight of Torquemada's stare made Keller feel violated.

_Jesus, is this what it feels like when I do this to someone else? Fuck, it is creepy!_

The alien thought slashed across his mind, and he was quickly reunited with his wits. He made a quick quarter-turn so that Torquemada could no longer visually savor the curve of his ass or the tattoo and cleared his throat. The seal on his voice was finally broken.

Torquemada closed his eyes and smiled tightly. "Mmmmm," he hummed. "He was right. You _are_ fucking beautiful."

"Who was right?" Keller asked.

Torquemada held up one finger. "All in good time, _papi_ ," he said. "Why don't you take a seat?"

Keller looked in the direction Torquemada's arm was extended and saw the chair against the glass wall. He wanted to tell Torquemada that he preferred to stand, thank you, but that one normal eye which looked like a chip of volcanic glass on polished marble had regained its power and seemed to be making his decisions for him. It wanted Keller seated, and so he sat.

Torquemada returned to the lower bunk and took a seat on it facing Keller. With his arms folded and his knees spread suggestively, he raised one eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned up very slightly. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Should I?" Keller asked.

"Perhaps," Torquemada said, "but first things first." He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and removed a clear vial that appeared to be containing five or six very healthy lima beans. "You know what these are?" he asked, shaking the vial so that it's contents rattled.

Keller felt a strange warmth pass through his body; it was a feeling that only a recovered drug addict would identify as the beast within awakening. "I do," he answered with a wry smile. "D-tabs."

"Very good," said Torquemada, his own smile widening. He extended the vial to him. "Please," he offered.

Keller shook his head. "Keep 'em. I'm sober now," he said, directing the words towards himself more than the man seated across from him

Torquemada inclined his head and the smile transformed into a slight pout. "Dissatisfied customer?"

"You could say that," Keller said, worried that that one eye of Torquemada's could see that something else was awakening in him too, and that it was fear. Those little green capsules had come into his life at about the same time that an insolently beautiful young man named Byam Lewis had. They had gone out a little slower than Byam had, though.

"A shame," Torquemada said, stashing the pills back into the place where he had retrieved them. "But no worry. Perhaps there's another way I could gain your support."

"I'm not going to help you sell 'em either," Keller responded hoping that the quiver in his voice was well-disguised.

"A _very_ dissatisfied customer," noted Torquemada.

"Spare me the bullshit. Why am I here?" Keller demanded, fetching himself up as sharply as he could.

"Why indeed," Torquemada said, resuming his previous posture. With his arms folded, the black fingernails now looked like the eyes of some menacing white spider that was staring him down. "Mr. Keller, you're here on a business matter."

"Maybe you didn't hear me when I said..."

"Shhh," Torquemada said, crossing his lips with a finger. The spider now had only half of its eyes, but Keller felt no more at ease. He fell silent nevertheless. "This isn't about what I'm selling, _querido_ ," continued Torquemada. "It's about what we both are needing."

"Oh yeah? And what're we both needing?"

"Security, of course."

Keller started to laugh.

One of Torquemada's eyebrows—the one over the white eye—went up. "What's so funny?"

"What the fuck makes you think I need security?" he chortled.

"We all need something, baby."

"You really think I'm ever going to willingly be your prag?"

The eyebrow fell back into place and teeth appeared in Torquemada's smile. "Silly rabbit," chuckled the man in white. "I don't want you to be my prag, and I'm definitely not going to be yours."

Confusion brought Keller's eyebrows together. "Now you've lost me," he said.

Torquemada stood up again and ran his fingers up his torso slowly. "This body is innocent of carnal knowledge, and I fully intend for it to stay that way while I'm here. That's where I'm hoping you can help me, Christopher." His hands stopped just below the curve of his pecs and the smile went up again. "You don't mind if I call you Christopher, do you?"

Keller sat back, regarding Torquemada with a wry smile. "As long as you don't mind me not believing that you've never been fucked."

The black fingernails slid back down Torquemada's torso and along the sides of his hips. "You can believe whatever you'd like," he said. "What you think about me really doesn't matter as long as you think about our safety... both mine and yours."

This was all way too bizarre, but it was also strangely tantalizing. Keller couldn't help the restless twitch of his dick as he took in Torquemada's approaching physique. "Why me?"

Torquemada's smile broadened again. "I like that," he said. "You wanna know why you before you know what's in it for you."

Keller flashed a smile that rendered almost everyone who saw it weak in the knees; it was one of his favorite defensive weapons. "Well it's like you said," he said as he drew a small circle on the inside of his thigh with his fingertips, "we all need something, and what I need is to know why you think I'm your guy?"

Torquemada's eyes, both the black one and the white one, fell on Keller's leg and then return to Keller's face. He drew a few more steps closer, knelt down, and put his hand on top of Keller's.

 _Innocent of carnal knowledge, my fucking ass!_ Keller thought.

"Let's just say I was very impressed with the work you did behind the scenes of _Macbeth_ this week," Torquemada crooned. Keller's hand froze and his smile disappeared. Instinctively, he flinched back in his chair. Torquemada's fingers closed gently around Keller's wrist and the other one fingered the tattoo on his upper arm again. "Now before you get yourself wound up into a little panic," he continued, "let me make haste to assure you that I'm glad Schillinger is dead. Not only were his politics disgusting, but a man as anti-drug as he was is bad for my business, especially when he works in the mail room."

Keller nodded slowly, thinking of the package he was having delivered there later today... the one that would take care of the rest of the Aryans who were going to come after Beecher on account of Keller's 'work behind the scenes of _Macbeth_.' That was something he never would have tried while the old Nazi prick was still alive. "Yeah, I can see how that would complicate things."

"I'm sure you do," Torquemada said, adding two more fingers to the one that was stroking his tattoo. His other hand slid under the one Keller had on his leg. "So for that reason alone, I owe it to you to look after your safety as well, don't I?" The three fingers stroking his arm were joined by the other two, and they slid up over his shoulder.

Keller brushed his chin against Torquemada's fingertips and closed his eyes. "You're sweet," he said, "but I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Torquemada said. The hand on his leg slid up a little further, the black fingertips brushing the head of his swelling cock. "But like I said, this is about our mutual safety, baby."

Keller put his hand on top of Torquemada's which was now covering the first three inches of a hard ridge in his pants. "Well, I can see that you're concerned about mine," he replied in a husky whisper of his own. "But why do I need to be concerned about yours?"

Torquemada's hand slid out from underneath Keller's, slipped up his chest and came to stop on Keller's other shoulder. "Because I like you, Christopher." he said, rising a little bit until the tip of his nose brushed against Keller's. "But your friend, Toby," he whispered, "I don't think he likes you anymore. He's going to coöperate with the FBI to turn you in for murder."

Keller's eyes flew open and he tried jump out of the chair, but Torquemada quickly threw a leg over Keller's lap and sat down, pressing his chest against against the other man's. Keller tried to shove him off, but the arm that was wrapped around the back of his neck, pressing his face into Torquemada's neck, hugged him tighter. He somehow managed to wriggle free, but then froze when he saw the shank an inch away from his eye. It had been made from one of the wires that supported a mattress on a bunk bed, and it looked just like the fake one Keller had used to intimidate Beecher backstage a few days before the performance.

"I loved watching this particular behind-the-scenes job that you did with Toby," Torquemada hissed. "But you should know right now that _this baby_ is a hundred percent real."

Keller glanced at the shank, and then at Torquemada. The one white eye now seemed to be glowing. The other had gone flat and dark like a shark's. Torquemada had seen him back there with Toby? How had he even known about that? Not even Suzanne Fitzgerald had known about what was going on back there until she whisked back the curtain to ask what the fuck was going on (and by that time Beecher wasn't handcuffed to anything or staring with terror at a prop shank anymore). How the fuck had Torquemada known?

"Look to your right," Torquemada instructed.

Keller didn't move out of fear that the shank was going to be buried into the space where his head and his neck connected.

"Go on," Torquemada said.

Keller looked and saw nothing but Masters's fat ass and Zonioni's rectangular form next to it.

"See how they're blocking the view?" Torquemada asked.

Keller nodded. Yes, he did see that. He also knew that they could block the entrance long enough for Torquemada to airhole him at least twice before the hacks could force their way past them and into the pod, maybe more times since the pod was on the second tier of Em City.

Torquemada reached under Keller's chin and redirected it to his face with its eyes of opposing color. "One false move is all it takes, _puto_."

"Got it."

"Now, you may not know me from Adam, but I know a lot about you," Torquemada said after a moment or two of silence. "In fact, I've been watching you for a long time, Christopher," he said, leaning in closer. The shank never moved. "Want to know how long?"

"How long?" Keller asked.

Torquemada leaned close to Keller's ear and whispered, "Ever since you killed my Byam."

Keller's eyes widened instinctively and his head turned in Torquemada's direction. The tip of the shank shifted until it was touching his temple. _My Byam? _he thought.__

"Oh yeah," Torquemada said as if he had heard the words in Keller's mind. "He was _mi corazón_ and you fucking murdered him and went on to kill two more men!"

Keller's mouth went dry. Memories of that night flooded into his brain at full volume. The way his head and his body seemed to be charged with electricity as the drugs rose to their full effect... the wild, bed-thrashing sex that had somehow turned into thrashes of a person desperate to escape the grasp of another... the rope burn on his palms as Keller secured Byam's wrists to the headboard... the bite marks Keller had left in the man's flesh and then later doused with rubbing alcohol... the screaming for mercy that had been muffled with duct tape... the tennis racket he had found in Byam's closet which he used to whip the young man's ass and later anally rape him... the tear stains that he noticed on Byam's face as he felt the breath stop in his throat with his own bare hands...

"Now you're probably saying to yourself, 'Self, I thought he said he was innocent of carnal knowledge, so how could he have a lover?'" Torquemada mused.

 _Not even close_ , Keller thought, clamping his jaw tight so that the same words wouldn't escape his lips.

"Well, just because I don't have sex doesn't mean that I would deny the one I love of the pleasure," Torquemada said, tracing the curve of Keller's shoulder with a black fingernail. He leaned in close again and whispered, "And I loved watching Byam get fucked... by one... by two... by five, sometimes. It was always amazing. He knew that his pleasure was my pleasure. The best part was always how his head would turn towards me after he came and he would blow me a kiss. It was so touching. I would see that wink and I would feel made love to myself."

Keller said nothing. Incredibly, he felt his cock stir to life at the sound of Torquemada's words.

"So," Torquemada continued, "when he told me that he had seen the most beautiful man at Stratosphere named Christopher Keller who had this crazy tattoo of a crucified Jesus on his arm and that he was going to bring him home for us to enjoy, I was all too happy to let him go to get you." The shank moved under his neck and Keller raised his chin to keep it from touching his skin. The tip of it scratched the stubble anyway. Torquemada bared his teeth and added, "I didn't know that was going to be the last time I ever saw him alive!"

Truthfully, neither had Keller as he had left the club with Byam that night. But by that time the drugs were doing the thinking for him and all they saw through his eyes was a young man with everything including looks, sex appeal, and perhaps enough money to never have to worry about anything at all. Then he had seen Bonnie, broken hearted for having been stupid enough to hitch her wagon to Keller a second time. Then he had just seen red.

"I wept for a solid month," Torquemada told him. "And then for another solid month after they found Mark Carachi the same way they had found my Byam. And just when I thought my misery couldn't get any worse, they found Bryce Tibbets by a road in New Jersey... same M.O. as the other two men."

Torquemada made a quick, slight twist of his wrist and the tip of the shank scraped the bottom of his chin enough to cause a slight sting. Keller grunted and felt blood pooling in the small wound. It was no worse than a shaving nick, but something told Keller that if he said anything or moved, he was going to be bleeding a lot more.

"Imagine my outrage when I found out that Christopher Keller, my lover's killer, was in Oz not for the murder of those men, but for robbing a fucking convenience store in Chinatown and shooting the clerk!" he spat.

Keller stayed put, hearing only his heart thudding in his chest and feeling the pulse in his inexplicably hardening cock.

"I swore I'd make sure you got what you had coming to you," Torquemada said, "and what better place to start than by going after your nemesis's friends. My search for them led me to a chop shop in Queens run by a fellow named Ronnie Barlog. Remember him? Beautiful but dumb as a bucket of rocks?"

Keller swallowed. "You're the one that called the cops on him?"

"And then later the Feds to strike a deal to turn you in," Torquemada said, nodding. "Funny how he ended up dead too, huh?"

Keller was dragged unwillingly back to that moment. The feel of Ronnie's warm, wet mouth encircling the meat of his dick... the feel of Ronnie's rough, curly hair beneath the palms of his hands... the sound of Ronnie's neck snapping as he wrenched his head around as hard as he could... and also, before that moment in the storage closet, Beecher's words rattling in his mind like a pebble in his shoe: _Write me from Death Row_. Watching the scene play out in front of his mind's eye, Keller realized that his cock had deflated and that his balls were tucked in tight.

"I gave up on ever hoping you'd end up in the chair until the FBI, on their own, found a witness who came forth to say that he saw you burying Tibbets's body by the side of the road," Torquemada went on. "When they sentenced you to death, I thought I could finally rest easy. And rest easy I did until the news came that a disbarred lawyer named Tobias Beecher, who had coincidentally served time in Oz, somehow managed to get Christopher Keller's death sentence overturned and his charges for Tibbets' murder cleared. Then I really lost it and tossed a martini mixer full of acid in the face of the most haughty and disrespectful bitch I could find at one of my clubs."

Keller had heard that story. Although he had not met Torquemada or heard his name up until this point, word had spread around Unit B and among the others who were working behind the scenes of _Macbeth_ that a famous nightclub owner was serving time in Em City for throwing acid on one of the customers. He had no idea that he was going to meet that nightclub owner or that the same person was going to have such a vested interest in meeting him.

"Now here I am in Oz with the one man I've been so desperate to see destroyed since he took the one I loved from me and also the bastard that got him off... who it turns out is also his lover," Torquemada said and smiled. "So what would you do if you were me?"

Keller let out a shuddery breath. He knew what he would do, but he had not forgotten that Torquemada was also talking to him about guaranteeing his safety just a few minutes earlier. What was that all about? None of it made sense.

"I oughta kill you right now, but the longer I have watched you, the more convinced I am that you have the luck of _el Diablo_ himself," Torquemada said after a moment. "A guy with that kind of luck could be a huge asset to my endeavors here in Oz."

"So, you are making me your bitch," Keller said, regretting it the moment it came out of his mouth.

"'Bitch' is such an ugly word," Torquemada said, "especially when what you're doing is looking out for my safety."

"You know what they say about polishing a turd," Keller retorted.

"You know what they say about fighting the law," Torquemada sneered back, as he rose slowly and climbed off Keller's lap. He backed away with the shank still in his hand and returned to the spot where he had been seated before. That one dark eye never wavered from his form and the white eye still seemed to be glowing with pure malice. "So here's how it's going to be," he said after he slid the shank under the mattress between his knees. "If Toby does try to give you up to the Feds, I'll be able to provide a long list of other lovers that Byam had before he died. So many of them were unsavory characters, and so many of them were completely _loco_ thanks to the drugs. I wouldn't have put it past any of them to do something so violent. I'm not sure if any of them will come under direct suspicion by the FBI, but it will at least put a hole in Toby's credibility as an informant." Torquemada, then spread his hands and shrugged. "If he doesn't, I'll only be able to come up with one name to give to the Feds... yours."

Keller fell silent. He was not going to win and he knew it. Maybe, given enough time, he'd have a better chance of charming his way out of this one, but it was not going to happen right now. Torquemada had him and they both knew it. Even so, Keller's keen ability to read people told him there was something else that Torquemada wasn't telling him... something that was even darker and more horrifying.

There was only one way to find out what it was, too.

"What's going to happen to Toby?" Keller asked.

"Oh, that's not up to me," Torquemada said. "Part of that depends on you, but most of it depends on my new business partners, the Italians."

_Oh fuck, no!_ Keller thought, knowing what Torquemada was going to tell him even before it came out of his mouth. A horrible smile surfaced on Torquemada's face, and once again, he appeared to have read Keller's mind. 

"That's right, Christopher," Torquemada said. "They're not really sure why your beloved Tobias is in communication with the Feds, but they're already starting to worry that he might give them up for the hit Hank Schillinger."

"How the fuck do you know about that?" Keller asked in a voice that sounded disgustingly craven.

Torquemada extracted the vial of D-tabs from his pocket and rattled it again. "One of the ingredients in this little cocktail is sodium pentathol. You know what that is?"

Keller shook his head.

" _El suero de la verdad_ ," he said pocketing the vial again and rising to his feet. Once more, he drew near Keller's chair with silent, feline steps. "Truth serum, baby." He got close enough to put his palms on Keller's thighs and his forehead against Keller's. "'Cause when you're dealing with Destiny, the truth _always_ comes out."

"You've already got them hooked on it," Keller commented.

"Hooked? Maybe not." Torquemada's voice fell to a whisper again as he pressed his forehead harder against Keller's. "But they have sampled my wares and therefore know a good thing when they've got it, even from a financial perspective."

"Alright, I'll do it if you leave Toby out of this," Keller offered.

Torquemada shook his head. "No."

"Even if he..." Keller began.

"Even then," Torquemada interrupted.

"Why?" Keller demanded.

"Because you didn't leave Byam out of it."

Keller was suddenly sick with rage. "You motherless piece of shit!" he snarled.

"Call me whatever you want as long as you know your place, _chulo_ ," Torquemada said. "But one way or another, Toby is a lost cause. Time to start accepting it now."

"I'm going to kill you," Keller threatened.

Torquemada smiled almost serenely. "If anything happens to me at all, Christopher, no matter how slight and whether or not it's your fault, I'll have the Italians kill Toby right in front of you." He slipped to Keller's ear again and whispered, "He'll go screaming, begging for the torture to end. But I'll have them drag it out as long as they can. It'll rip your heart out the way that my heart was ripped out." He backed off and grinned again. "At least you won't have to watch if you're a good boy."

Keller felt the tears burning and screwed his eyes shut and bared his teeth in order to keep them from flowing.

_No! No fucking way, you bastard! NO!_

Torquemada ran his black fingernails through his white hair. "You've got a lot to think about now, and I suspect that Toby will be done with McManus and Querns soon. So why don't you go back to your pod and get your goodbyes said. I'm going to get changed so that I can watch. I'm very eager to see what you are going to do."

Keller couldn't move at first. It took every part of his being to shift his weight forward and stand up. His knees had gone weak, and staying upright required a concerted effort. He felt a surge of bile rising in his throat. He would have given anything to claw the fury and heartache out of his body and throw it into Torquemada's face, staining his white clothes with blood and raw emotion. This was the worst he had ever been fucked over in his life, and the most awful part was knowing that he was helpless to do anything about it. With slow, careful movements, he approached the door of the pod. It was no longer blocked by Masters and Zonioni, but flanked by them.

"Oh, Christopher?" Torquemada said, tapping Keller on the shoulder.

Keller turned and looked at his new self-appointed boss and blackmailer. A second later he was doubled over and gasping for air as Torquemada drove his knee into Keller's groin.

"That's from Byam," he said. "Now get out."

Keller took a few minutes to gather his breath and his dignity while Torquemada brushed invisible specks of dust off of a skin-tight blue pinstripe suit that was decorated with an obnoxious orange flower in the breast pocket and a gaudy pink and saffron frill at the collar. When he felt capable of moving, he opened the door and stepped out on to the tier past Masters and Zonioni. His equilibrium was still off, and the rage and shame had not abated one bit. On the other side of Emerald City and on the same tier, the Italians were gathered in Chucky Pancamo's room, probably having a meeting about the same topic Keller and Torquemada had been discussing.

 _No, they can't have him,_ Keller thought. _I won't fucking let them have him._

But there was nothing he could do.

Or was there?

He knew Beecher was still furious at him and completely mistrustful. He also knew that Beecher had every right to be so. He was also equally as sure that the little package he had arranged to send to the mailroom to take care of the rest of the Aryans was not going to solve anything. But Beecher didn't know about any of that yet.

He also didn't know about what Torquemada was planning to do... to both of them.

If only there was a way to keep him out of their clutches.

He stared at the tile floor below, losing himself in the way the light shined off it.

Something flickered in his mind.  One ugly, but viable alternative.

_Oh Jesus, I can't do that! They'll throw Toby on Death Row!_

_Maybe not,_ his fevered brain answered back. _You know they're not going to find anyone guilty of Schillinger's murder, least of all you or Toby. You think they're going to waste one minute making a decision on Killer Keller?_

_You don't know that for sure._

_It's either that or hand him over to the Italians against your will and his, plus a lifetime of servitude to Torquemada. What's it going to be?_

He visually measured the distance to the floor. It was about twenty feet.

If he did it just right, it just might work.

Torquemada had said he was eager to see what Keller was going to do.

 _Let's see what you think of this, asshole_ , he thought as he walked back to his pod.

 


End file.
